


do you even remember that moment (... when everything feels so right?)

by buzzbug82



Series: MA(ruma)-Event [3]
Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Canon - Book, Drabble, Drama & Romance, Fluff, M/M, Ma Event, Maru-MA series, lol how I almost lost this fic because I fell asleep while typing it, yay me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 06:20:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7211417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buzzbug82/pseuds/buzzbug82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dedicated for MA-Event.</p><p>June Pride: Yuuri + Wolfram Month</p><p>Sneak Peek preview for future fic.</p><p>Yuuri might fail at cooking, and yet he will not fail at expressing his feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	do you even remember that moment (... when everything feels so right?)

 

 

Sometimes when his mother misses his father during one of those long, lonely day, she would cook curry. It is a simple dish that is complicated enough to distract her and she would let the little Yuuri help her and would coo at him when he stood on his small stool in front of the sink, washing the rice (and Miko would re-wash it after sending her son to get potatoes from the nearest mart).

 

 

 

He admitted it once, and he confessed again recently that he doesn’t like to be alone. So when Wolfram had been disappearing by the time he came back from his morning jog, and only re-appear in the wee hour of the morning, he decided that he misses the pretty boy more than he could ever voice; the energetic alto-voice, the way his honey-blond hair look disheveled when he wakes up, and the glittering emerald eyes– he misses every inch of Wolf, even when the said boy was within reach– it’s almost like how the sea waves drifting away from the shore and he’s running to catch up.

 

 

 

(And not too long ago, they were so close they could fit in a fruit crate together; so intimately familiar they memorized each other’s heartbeat pattern, squeezed tightly on a small bed with the moonlight shining from the broken window; the sound of the water dripped from the wet bedding next to them created comforting thoughts that _it was over_ and _he is here_.)

 

 

 

Yuuri misses Wolfram, and he understand that Wolfram got his own job, and even though he is the King’s vasal– sometimes he got to let Wolf has his own freedom; the Bielefeld house is still his home, and he was representing both Bielefeld and Spitzberg regions in the main city– and Yuuri feels foolish and embarrassed to even consider sulking while Wolf is gone and continues his days and his miscellaneous duties as the King.

 

 

 

Somehow the fiery former prince’s absence makes him misses home as well, and his mind fondly remembers his family; especially his mother, and all her cooking that he craves for.

 

 

 

That’s how he find himself standing over the castle’s kitchen island, arranging the items as neatly as possible in the hexagon-shaped black box.

 

 

 

(Because he learns that to find the ingredients for making a perfect curry would be journeying for 50 days into the depth of the southern mountains and involves a certain old mazoku ritual that he rather not know).

 

 

 

“Where did you get this?” he asked, pointing at the lunch box, curiously peeking at Conrad who was at the opposite of the kitchen island, peeling an apple.

 

 

 

“Josak’s hobby is carpentry,” Lord Weller replied simply, smiling in amusement when Yuuri glanced at his sticky hands with a dejected look.

 

 

 

He doesn’t ask why hexagon though; square boxes still haunts his nightmares sometimes.

 

 

 

“Are you sure you don’t want the cooks to help you?”

 

 

 

Yuuri nodded determinedly, picking up the golden fried fish fillet and stacked them together. “I– I want to do this myself,” his cheeks burn in red, avoiding eye contact with his nazukeoya.

 

 

 

“Of course, Yuuri.”

 

 

 

He didn’t ask, but he is pretty sure that Conrad knows it all along– long before he himself knows how he feels, before any of the nature-changing adventures and decisions, before anything that made them _who they are today_ –  maybe he knows it the moment Yuuri asked whether Wolfram would be his ally when he becomes Maoh.

 

 

 

(God, is it only a year and a half ago?)

 

 

 

It’s not surprising; maybe he already decided, way from back then, who can catch him when he falls.

 

 

 

He skips the morning jog, and pulls a tired-looking Wolf who is getting ready to wear his uniform towards the kitchen, and pushes a hexagon-shaped box into the rough, fair hands. Wolfram is dumbfounded and looks a little irritated at being push and pull so early in the morning, but he is not the same Wolf back then. Now, he is a dashing former (and future) prince who can control his temperament even better than the king himself. 

 

 

 

“What is this?”

 

 

 

“I made you a lunch,”

 

 

 

There is a pause, and Lord von Bielefeld looks up– curious replaces his anger in a swipe of words and respect.

 

 

 

“What?”

 

 

 

“In Japan– from where I came from, we usually make bento– you see, bento is a home-packed meal– for takeout for someone they lo– family members. You haven’t been able to come home for lunch and dinner nowadays so I’m a little worried about how you’re eating, so I went and made a lunch for you to take with you when you’re out.”

 

 

 

Wolf takes off the lid, and greets the unappetizing-looking bento with misshaped and lumpy rice, dry fish fillets, a few slices of eggs and some green vegetables (that is burnt a little at the edges) and beautiful, bunny-shaped slices of apples.

 

 

 

Yuuri stammers. “My cooking is not the best– sorry– and I can’t _for the life of me_ make it _kyaraban_ style so–”

 

 

 

Wolfram closes the lid and _then there it is_ – the smile that makes the entire nation fall to their knees– bright and beautiful and innocent with every bits of honest and blunt, and Yuuri feels like crying.

 

 

 

“Thank you,” _I’m so happy._

 

 

 

Yuuri wonders, when does it happen? He doesn’t even remember the moment how Wolfram becomes a part of him, the moment he surrenders to his feelings, and takes apart of himself to pieces just to build Wolfram back in together with him; how he had let it happen and doesn’t even mind and wholly ready to accept being build inside Wolfram as well.

 

 

 

“We have extras here, why don’t you two have a day off today and go for a picnic behind the hills? It’s a nice weather outside too,”

 

 

 

Conrad already packs drinks and desserts that the kitchen maid has made into a picnic basket, folding a blue-striped picnic blanket with an understanding and knowing smile.

 

 

 

Wolfram hesitates at first, but then he loops his arm around Yuuri’s and clutches the bento box closer. “Yes, let’s go, Yuuri. It will be more perfect if Greta is here to join us though,”

 

 

 

Yuuri’s heart feels like it is about to beat right out of his chest, and pretty sure Wolfram is the same. “We can just go for another picnic when she comes back,”

 

 

 

Wolf shrugs, his green-emerald eyes glances up at Yuuri’s midnight black in coy. “You’re right.”

 

 

 

Conrad finishes packing, and announces that he will take it upon himself to inform that the king and his fiance will be taking the day off to Gwendal and Gunter, and pushes them out to the ground and shouts to the passing soldier to prepare the horses.

 

 

 

The older man’s insistence makes Wolfram rolls his eyes and shouts that they’re not children anymore, and Yuuri laughs good-naturedly, linking their fingers together, taking root in each other in silence and confidence.

 

 

 

The day will become dazzling, and both of them are aware, fortunately.

 

 

 

[end]


End file.
